Star Wolf: Animal
by ThatWinchieGuy
Summary: Wolf O'Donnel is captured in a gunfight in Downtown Corneria and sent to Fort Walsworth; a brutal Cornerian work camp. Whilst there, however, Wolf discovers that the Cornerian is mistreating more than just those who deserve it...
1. Expositions

**So, many of my regular readers right now are probably thinking something along the lines of "he's ending Insanity Pulse? After all that planning?" **

**Let me be the first to say that I'm loving writing Insanity Pulse and there's no way in hell that I'll be stopping that one before it's over. I'm going to write this story alongside that one; they have no connection at all. **

**Now, this story will be rough. It's a dark one, but I think it's one that needs to be told. I'll just say the story is centered around the extreme conditions the body can endure and the cruelty that one person can impose upon another. **

**This will also be my first look into the character of Wolf O'Donnel. There will be no romance in this story. **

**-ThatWinchieGuy**

Wolf O'Donnel's large feet plodded into the ground, pushed from the truck by his fellow prisoners. Wolf turned and snarled at them, and then he continued to follow the crowd. His eyes began to adjust from the blackness of the truck's hold to the gray light of dusk. All around him were people; families and drifters and children, all moving in the same direction that he was. Wolf simply followed; silent and angry at himself for allowing this humiliation to happen.

If he was honest with himself, Wolf would say that he had no idea what was happening. He knew how he'd gotten there; being arrested in a small gunfight in Downtown Corneria, a gunfight that almost cost Leon Powalski his life. So, he could assume, then, that whatever this place was, it had to be some form of prison. And it made sense. It had the feel of a prison, with it's guards and it's tall walls. But why, then, were there children here?

As Wolf was thinking and jostling his way through the mob, it dawned on him that a large percentage of the people around him were rabbits. It couldn't be true, it couldn't… But yes, almost every one of them was a rabbit, with the exception of the occasional wolf, dog, panther, or other predatory species. All of the other groups were criminals that Wolf had been transported to the prison with. Why were all these rabbits here, and nobody else?

"Men this way! Hurry!" A guard yelled, spraying saliva everywhere as he shouted. He was some sort of Cornerian soldier. He trained his machine gun on the crowd, ready to fire at any second…even eager to shoot at any second…why?

Wolf watched as husbands embraced their wives, their children, speaking softly to each other. Saying goodbye and farewell. Why was this happening? Wolf couldn't really tell why these seemingly innocent families were here. He began moving towards those who weren't crying or holding someone, but he again could not find any rabbits who were not taking part in the massive farewell ceremony.

"Go! Men this way! Now!" The guard continued shouting, interrupting the awkward shriek of cries and moans coming from the rabbits. He swung his nightstick indiscriminately, sending men and women and children alike down into the mud. Wolf studied the faces of those around him. They did not seem sad. They looked…emotionless. Empty. Hollow. Wolf just pushed on past the guard, confused.

After a short walk that seemed to take decades, Wolf and all the other men came to a group of guards. An officer stood between the guards, unarmed. He could try to make an escape if he could get close enough…but endanger all these innocent people? Wolf was a criminal, not a terrorist. The guards guided- beat people until they listened- people down one of two paths; the left or the right. The officer stood, judging each person and decided their fate. Wolf noticed that occasionally he would send somebody down a central path behind him. These men were mostly the criminals, so Wolf decided that the center path would soon become his path.

Wolf stood before the officer, who motioned him down the center, silently and efficiently. Wolf obeyed; much against his will and better judgement. Although he was rebellious, he wasn't suicidal. He wrenched himself from the crowd, finally able to breath easy, and followed the other criminals into the darkened forest.

…

As the group walked, a stench filled the air, causing some of the men to gag and cough. Wolf's lupine nose caught the scent; the smell of people. Dead people. What were the Cornerians doing in this prison?! The criminals whispered among each other, while the guards kept a watchful eye- and rifle- over them.

"They're going to kill us all….."

…

The criminals came to a small village of sorts, bustling with military activity. Large, windowless, brick buildings were erected in rows of 5. There were 6 rows of these buildings, and each looked like it could house hundreds of people. Trucks, like the one Wolf had traveled in on, ferried supplies back and forth. Armed men marched about, their boots clopping as they walked. An officer came to meet the prisoners, and the group of men was made to stop by shouting and the swinging of clubs; even a warning shot from one ambitious soldier.

"Welcome to Fort Walsworth. Here, you work where I tell you to, when I tell you to. If you are caught trying to escape, you will be shot. Uniforms will be provided, and to be worn at all times. If you are not in uniform, you will be shot. All insubordinance will be met with brute force. Breakfast is at 5 AM, dinner at 10 PM. You sleep in the barracks to my left. One to a cot. You will receive work lists tomorrow. Dismissed."

And that was it; hundreds of men condemned to a fate worse than death in a short 20 seconds, without emotion or regret.


	2. The Veterans

Wolf squeezed himself into the matte grey uniform, which was far too small for his lupine form. His damaged eye was now revealed; it caused many of his fellow prisoners tot gag. Most of them didn't want look at him. The wound had festered for years underneath the eyepatch, since the medical knowledge of criminals was…less than average.

Wolf was ordered to work in a furnace room, where he was constantly sweating and, therefore, dehydrated. When the day was done, Wolf clambered up the hill to the kitchen, eager for water. His desire was met with the smack of a pan across his face.

As he picked himself up out of the mud, Wolf began thinking again of water. He eventually found it in the form of a murky pond in some remote corner of Fort Walsworth. His little excursion caused him to miss dinner.

"Sleep! Now!" The guards ordered, guns raised to the inmates' heads. Wolf reluctantly obeyed, snarling and flashing his teeth at them. His rebellious actions were met by shouting and the swinging of clubs.

Why was he here? This wasn't a normal prison. The grounds reeked of death and stale urine. There was something wrong; something sinister about this place. Why did it smell like death? There was nobody here but them and the guards. And then, it hit him like a roundhouse kick to the nose.

The rabbits….

The selection process at the gates…..

They were hand choosing people to execute. The only reason that he was still here was because he could work. This wasn't right. There were so many rabbits that Wolf knew… all good people….. What did they do to deserve death at the hands the government's workers?

…

Wolf awoke, bugles blaring directly next to his ear. Guards stood watch as the bugler blasted his song through the barracks. It was a song that signified the end. The bed Wolf had slept on was hardly a bed; a four foot long, two foot wide wooden slab surrounded by short wooden planks that served as walls, like a crib. Hundreds of these beds were laid on top of each other, row after row. Each one had a person in it.

Breakfast was meager; two slate pieces of bread with black coffee. The starving Wolf gulped down all he was given before he had even reached a seat. He took this time to mingle with some of the other inmates who had been at the Fort for quite some time; the veterans, as they were called. They were identified by their distinct stench and wiry frame.

"Hey," Wolf mumbled, sitting down next to a group of them.

"If you're here for extra food, you'd best piss off, O'Donnel. Yeah, I'd know your scummy face anywhere." Wolf blew off the comment and continued his investigation.

"What's going on here?"

"The apocalypse, O'Donnel. What does it look like to you?"

"Well, it looks like a prison." Wolf said. The prisoner turned and faced him, staring into his eyes.

"Look, O'Donnel. This place is hell incarnate. You work, then you die. That's it. You do what the guards tell you to and stop asking so many damn questions, and maybe, MAYBE, you last more than a month. Don't be stupid."

Wolf stayed quiet for a moment, processing the information.

"What's your name?" Wolf asked, unrelated.

"I thought I told you to stop asking so many questions. It's George; but to the guards, it's Q-169." George rolled up his tattered sleeve, revealing a bright red tattoo of that number. Then, silence. Wolf and George departed when the work bell tolled.

**By the way, chapters are going to be a bit shorter than usual for this story. I just like writing it that way. **

**-ThatWinchieGuy**


End file.
